


No Sweeter Innocence

by drarryandharry



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christian!Harry, Getting Together, Homophobia, I basically had a breakdown and wrote this, Internalised Homophobia, M/M, Religious Themes, church, faith - Freeform, harry is not having a good time, self discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 17:44:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19446448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drarryandharry/pseuds/drarryandharry
Summary: For Harry, church was the first place he truly felt at home. What happens when he realises it isn’t his home anymore?-Harry is gay and Christian, and then he has a breakdown.-Title (and lowkey the concept) taken from the song “Take me to church” by Hozier. Thanks to siluthis, aroace-phanchild and myfathershouldnthearaboutthis on tumblr for beta-ing!!! Love you guys.





	No Sweeter Innocence

**Author's Note:**

> Yo yo yo. This isn’t the fic anyone wanted but it’s the only thing I was capable of writing, you’re gonna have to wait for more queer eye. If anyone reading this relates to any of the themes, hit me up on tumblr @drarryandharry I’d love to chat cause I too relate to the themes.  
> I love these boys. As always, the characters aren’t mine, credit to jk, no profit made and all the other housekeeping.  
> Enjoy!!!

Every Sunday for nearly 11 years, Harry James Potter was taken to church. Before he could even talk, he was perched on the edge of an oak pew. Sunday quickly became his favourite day of the week. He got to dress up in clothes that were purposely bought for him, not too wide hand me downs that were years old, and the congregation were actually nice to him. Church was a paradise compared to Privet Drive.

After starting at Hogwarts, Harry realised how much he truly hated the Dursley’s, and the church became a heaven. Petunia wouldn’t let him leave the house until she heard “church”. When Harry returned for the summer, he practically lived there, avoiding the Dursleys and their anti-magic rhetoric as much as possible. Church was his substitute Hogwarts, somewhere he felt he truly belonged. Where people respected him. Each year, Harry got more and more involved. He threw himself into meetings, offered to help at Sunday school, and manned the tea and coffee station for hours after services. When he returned to Surrey after his fourth year, he was finally old enough to join the bible study group. They met twice a week, a perfect excuse to not see Dudley, and an excellent distraction from the events of last year.

A month and a half after Harry joined the group, they had made significant progress. Harry was reading late into the night to keep up, wanting to get ahead of the others. It was almost 3am when he reached Leviticus 20:13, one that the minister had pointed out specifically. Of course, it would be this verse that the group would focus on. At the next meeting, Harry didn’t necessarily agree with everything that was said, but it didn’t affect him too much. Harry has known for as long as he could remember that he loved girls. So even though he also liked boys sometimes, he wasn’t gay. After all, he couldn’t be gay and like girls. Everyone gets gay crushes from time to time. He was fine. He was normal. Most importantly, he was safe. He wasn’t disgusting. He couldn’t be gay, so God still loved him.

During the war, Harry had no time for anything, never mind church. Still, he carried his pocket bible everywhere in Hermione’s genius beaded bag. Every night, he read the same psalm. Number 23. The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing. It was the last thing he thought of before he died. He wasn’t afraid, even in his last moments, because his parents and his God were there to guide him. And it all worked out okay, in the end. Everything was fine.

Until Christmas. Harry was eighteen by now, which allowed him entry to all manner of establishments, magical or otherwise. He was in a muggle club when it happened. He had a revelation, but not of the religious sort. After too many beers, and a few extra vodkas for good measure, Harry kissed a boy. Not for any particular reason, he just felt like it in the moment. He could’ve chalked it up to intoxication, if he hadn’t enjoyed it so much. It felt good. It felt right, as much as anything he’d ever done with a woman. Like every last nerve in his body was on fire.

He wanted more, and he almost got it. They were so close, fumbling towards the door to hail a taxi somewhere more private. Then the cold air hit, and Harry’s memories came back to him. He remembered the meetings that used to be his whole life. Remembered the slurs and the hate and the horror. So he made his excuses, and left in his own taxi. Drunk and disappointed, either in himself, or in the God that made him want it. He wasn’t sure which.

By this time in his life, Harry was getting good at keeping secrets, and he kept that night firmly to himself for a long, long time. He tried to push down his feelings, as if he could collect them in his feet and literally stomp them out. He directed his attention elsewhere, onto girls and school (and once that was over, Auror training) in the hope it would go away. He pretended it never happened. He hoped it would never happen again. And this was working splendidly, until the arrival of Draco Malfoy in the Auror department.

He was beautiful. Truly. He’d grown up a lot in the past few years. Grown into the pronounced cheekbones that once made him look pointy. He looked poised. His robes were just loose enough to be professional, but tight enough to capture Harry’s imagination. Harry had never seen someone walk into a room so elegantly, or smile in a way that made Harry want to make a fool of himself, purely to see that smile again. Any hope of pushing his feelings away was crushed. Draco overwhelmed him, so much that he couldn’t lie to himself anymore. He couldn’t understand. How could something that felt so good be wrong? If it wasn’t right, why did he want him so badly? Because make no mistake, Harry did want him. Almost desperately so. Harry had been working with Draco almost a year by the time they were making small talk at their boss’s annual party. The first time Draco said it, Harry thought he’d misheard. “Can I buy you a drink,” he’d said, “maybe next Sunday?” Against his better judgment, Harry agreed. How could he not. He didn’t know when he’d next get this opportunity, and he wasn’t going to waste it over the opinions of a minister from when he was 15. They swapped phone numbers, the alcohol providing Harry the courage he was known for.

However, Harry felt himself becoming more and more uneasy as the day approached. He could feel the familiar knot in his stomach that always appeared in the presence of Draco Malfoy, but there was something else as well. An anxious nervousness, as well as the familiar one Harry had become accustomed to.

When the Sunday they were due to meet arrived, Harry panicked. He knew not every verse should be taken completely literally (mixed fabrics, come on? Really?) but he couldn’t get the thought out of his head. God won’t love him anymore. As a last ditch attempt to earn God’s favour, he decided to go to church. As he walked into his old church, he realised it hadn’t changed. He sat in his usual spot, and made casual conversation with the same people he always had. As if nothing had changed, which couldn’t be further from the truth. Although the building looked the same, it didn’t feel the same. He didn’t feel the sense of belonging he’d always felt. He sang the hymns, he read the verses but he didn’t feel like God was there. He was already too late.

After the tea and coffee station was packed away and everyone else was gone, he sat back down at the front of the church, and prayed. Literally only God knew how long. Hours maybe. He didn’t care. He just sat there, Bible in hand, fighting off tears. He felt alone in a way he never had before, even in his darkest moments, he thought there was someone there for him. After everything he’d done, this is what God abandoned him for. Needless to say, Harry had completely forgotten about the date with Draco, swept up in his own emotions.

Harry was about to leave when he heard someone coming into the building, presumably the minister. He turned to apologise, but he was mistaken. Draco Malfoy was in his church. He was even wearing a muggle suit. The light coming through the stained glass window painted his hair red and green and blue, the pale blond a perfect canvas.

Draco sat down on the pew next to him. “It’s nearly four o’clock Harry.”

Sure enough, Harry checked his phone to find the time was 3:52. He was supposed to meet Draco nearly an hour ago. “I’m so sorry, I got caught up here. We can go now if you want.” His voice wavered, and the tears he’d kept at bay for nearly three hours threatened to emerge.

“We can stay. I brought tea, Hermione said that firewhisky wouldn’t be appropriate for a church.” Draco opened the two flasks, and left them levitating in front of him.

Harry took one, drinking his fourth cup of tea that day. “How did she know I was here?”

“She didn’t, I did. We’re aurors Harry, I can track a phone.” Draco looked around the hall as Harry drank his flask. “This is my first time. In a church, I mean.”

Harry stared at the altar, “When I wasn’t at Hogwarts, this is where I’d be. This was my second home for years, and now it feels like I don’t even belong here.”

“Because of this,” said Draco, looking directly at Harry.

Harry turned to face him. They were so close, Harry could see the blue tint in his eyes. “Yeah.”

“You really think God cares? I can’t believe that. They made us. Why would They make us wrong? If God didn’t want us to be together, why would They make us want it?”

“I don’t know.” Harry put his now empty flask down gently on the floor in front of him, as if the stone floor could rip.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to know. You just have to have faith, right?” Draco took Harry’s hand in his own.

The tears were getting close again. Harry tried to say as little as possible, for fear his movement would cause him to start crying. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Can you trust me? For one minute.” Draco was quieter, nervous. As if he was going to tell Harry all his secrets.

“Okay.”

Draco put his unoccupied hand at the base of Harry’s head. Slowly, Draco guided Harry towards him, tilting his head slightly towards Harry’s. They were only millimeters apart. “Speak now, or forever hold your peace.” Harry could feel the heat coming off Draco’s body and he said nothing. Draco moved forward, and their lips touched.

It was nothing like the kiss at the club. That had been rough, desire and lust and hormones and nothing else. This was completely different. There was nothing sexual about it. Draco’s left hand in his hair and his right in his own, every touch was soft. His lips, his fingers. Nothing harsh about them.

For the first time since he stepped into the church, Harry felt like he belonged.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope everyone enjoyed it. Even if you didn’t go easy on this one?? Please?? I know it’s a mess but, in my defence, so am I.


End file.
